Keep Trying
by youkai chick supreme
Summary: This is where my short-shorts have come to rest. They all relate to Riku somehow, someway. But of course, it's me.
1. Keep Trying

A/n: I just recently found this little drabble while cleaning out my college binders. (Yea, all that money for classes and I wrote fanfics during them… Good use of thousands of dollars…)

Disclaimer: Belongs to Nomura, unless he wants to give these hotties to me for my 21st birthday! No…?

* * *

The couch sat on the far right wall in disuse. Light streamed in through the windows, street lamps blinking into life a scant few feet above the window. Sitting in a straight-backed metal chair at the table in the next room sat a young man slumped over the table, asleep.

His hair spilled silver over his turned to the side face, covering everything but one upturned cheek and eye, lashes fluttering idly. He mumbled, a half-formed name (Soo-something), hair flittering slightly before falling back to place.

His roommate sighed, pushing his own red hair back from his forehead; worrying for his roommate was giving him a headache. He just couldn't see why the other continued to do this to himself.

Shaking his head he walked over and shook the man's shoulder. At first nothing happened; then an eye opened revealing tired turquoise.

"He's not coming back, is he?" The man whispered, quickly sitting up, back ramrod straight.

"I don't think so Riku." The red head sighed, pretending not to see the tensed shoulders of the other quiver and crumple. He pointedly ignored the tears, but the cries, those he couldn't ignore. He couldn't get them out of his head, even weeks after they ended.

He tried to though.

* * *

End note: Not quite a drabble, but something my creative writing prof would call a "Short-short." I always loved that term.

I don't know if I love this, it's a little vague, but I like it enough to post. Let me know if you like it, short though it is (it felt like the end, I simply couldn't write past that).


	2. Jealousy

A/n: I'm alive. Kinda… God, life got fucked up and fast. Anything I write will be sporadic at best. Hence this short-short.

Disclaimer: Did Riku shove Kairi into the ocean and then ravish Sora once back upon the island? No? There, proof it's not mine.

* * *

Jealousy wrapped its cool hands around the boy's throat and squeezed, hard. He knew, deep down he did, he knew it was horrible of him to be jealous over his younger friend, but that didn't make his envy subside. It just added guilt into the mix. Well, more guilt would be the correct term. Guilt never left him these days. On a good day it just swam below the surface, there but under the current flow. On a bad day it consumed every part of his conscious.

He tore them apart once already. He tore the fabric of the sky asunder and shook the island right off the map, opened the door and damned everyone, on every world. He damned Sora and he damned Kairi, and at the time, he meant it. He meant to hurt them; how dare they move away from him, together, and leave him all alone? So he left them first. And he threw it all away.

Only to realize how much he needed them, both of them. Kairi with her easy going nature and sweet smiles (even if they weren't aimed at him); Sora with his happy heart and endless understanding (but did he really understand his best friend at all?). Riku needed them, almost as much as they needed each other.

But neither needed him. Not Kairi, and not Sora. And so Riku dived into the open arms of Jealousy, the only one who welcomed him.

* * *

End Note: I think I've died inside and am just now coming back to life. Don't expect much from me, you'll only be disappointed.

Also I don't think Riku hates Kairi at all; I just think he envies what she has with Sora, something Riku will never have.


	3. Ghost Man on Third

A/N: Tadaaaa! More short-shorts! Just what you didn't know you wanted!

Disclaimer: Not Nomura, don't own.

* * *

There is no place like the space between his arms, when we are tangled together, inextricable. Soft sheets pooling at our waists, my head pillowed on his chest; his nose brushing the crown of my head, inhaling the scent of his shampoo mixing with my conditioner. It must be a perfect match because he always smiles and hums his happy little sound into my hair. And it's all so perfect.

And then the sun rises and people start to wake up and my lover realizes that people might see us and (gasp) think we're together. Heaven forbid he be seen with me. I'm only his night time lover, no one is to know about this.

I can hear his roommate moving around outside his locked door. Lover boy can hear him too I'm sure; the hand tangled in my hair, previously petting back sweaty strands, freezes. A part of me, the part my heart beat back so as to agree to this crushing arrangement, wants to crow in victory: Try and kick me out now, he'll _see_ me!

His head turns to the window. I'm thin enough to fit through easily, and the fire escape is quite simple to traverse. He doesn't even need to say the words, I'm already half dressed and heading out, as the knob jiggles under the roomie's questing fingers. Ever silent (don't let anyone hear) I slide the window open and make my escape.

I feel so cheap. Just like a whore.

* * *

Names left out on purpose, FYI.


End file.
